


Can't Breath

by daikuun



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Family Feels, Feels, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Past Child Abuse, Self-Hatred, anxiety attack, triggering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:59:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7593703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daikuun/pseuds/daikuun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe if he was a better son, none of this would have ever happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Venting through Hinata yet again. This is all over the place but I needed to write something.

What had he ever done to deserve this? What could a small and fragile boy do to deserve this treatment? Oh, he knew. He knew exactly why. He was annoying, stupid, ugly, useless, _worthless._ Hinata reminded himself every single day of his flaws. Reasons why his mother was _ashamed_ of him. Reasons why his father _hurt_ him. Reasons why his sister didn't deserve a brother like him. Waking up to stare in the mirror to stare at the scars littering his thighs, he held his head high and went through the list.

He was so ugly. Everyone would tell him he's too short, too skinny, has such a baby face. Everyone could agree that the ribs sticking out under his skin were sickening. Everyone could agree that his height was something so pathetic. The gross black, blue, and brown bruises that were patched around on his body sent shivers running down his spine every time he glanced down at them. No one could ever love someone with so many scars; both mentally and physically. Ugly. Ugly. _Ugly._ Hinata wished he was decent looking. Maybe if he was attractive, he would feel better about himself. Maybe if he didn't make his father so grossed out by his body, he wouldn't pile on more and more bruises.

He was stupid. He could never get good marks in school. Every test was flunked and every assignment never left his bag. Every teacher's look of disappointment burned holes into the top of his head as he would slump down in his seat and stare at the desk. No matter how much he would study, he couldn't understand. The information would slip from ear to ear, exiting just as fast as it flowed through. Now he never even tried anymore. There was no point in it anymore.

He was annoying. God, he was so annoying. He could only imagine how his shrill voice sounded every day, blasting out nonsense and idiotic things. Being jumpy and easily excitable all the time got boring to others real fast. If he couldn't entertain his friends and peers, he felt sick. He always felt sick because no one wanted to hear him anymore. He could tell his friends were tired of him. The annoyance flashing through their eyes, the way their bodies retracted from him when he got too close, the times where they told him to shut up made him want to die. But he wouldn't stop. He never fucked stopped bothering everyone. He couldn't. He was so, so annoying.

He was worthless. His life meant nothing. If he died right now, maybe one or two people would cry, but everyone would be over it in a week. Hinata never added anything but bullshit to conversations. He didn't help advance anyone's life, he just brought others down with him. All he did was make people angry and upset and he deserved to get hit. He deserved to be pushed to the ground and kicked around. Every single last punch and slap was fully deserved.

Now he was actually on the tiled floor of his bathroom and he couldn't finish the list. Breathing was nearly an impossibility as his chest heaved up and down, weak and pathetic noises slipping from his lips. Thankfully the shower was running and no one could hear. If his father heard, he would be crying even more, and this time physical pain would be wreaking havoc on his body. He squeezed his eyes shut and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, causing them to ache as he kept pressing them further in. He was trying to stop crying.

Crying was a fucking pass time to him. Along with other things that were very bad and he knew he shouldn't do it, but it was the only thing that made him not kill himself. Taking a hand away from his face, he ran his fingers up and down the many scars and recent cuts that lined his right thigh. He jumped when one of his fingernails got caught in one of the freshest wounds. Tears slipped harshly from his eyes as he ground his teeth together. He couldn't fucking breath right and it was making him feel dizzy.

Hinata's mind went back to yesterday. His dad had been drinking a lot and it was Hinata's fault when he accidentally tripped over his dad's feet in the living room. It was his fault when he was beaten then, just like it was his fault when he was beaten any other time. He needed to stop fucking up but he did it anyway. Over and over and over again. His thoughts focused on the last time he had a drink by himself. He had stolen some from a convenience store and hide in the park by his house as he drank himself silly. Drinking always made him feel better. The occasional joint did as well. Even with the constant nagging in the back of his head that told him things were never going to be okay no matter how drunk or high he got. 

He was going to turn out like his dad. That's what his mom says when he sometimes snapped at his little sister when she wouldn't stop bothering him. Hinata could see it, too. That's what made it so scary. He was going to get a family and beat them like his dad did to his family. It's such a vicious cycle, but that's what hes always been told.

The anxiety attacks always made his mental health turn even worse every time they popped up, which was quite often. He curled up into a ball in the corner of the bathroom and sobbed hard. His breathing came out in short, ragged huffs. Not being able to breath correctly was the worst part. Being dizzy and feeling like puking was the hardest side effect of hyperventilating to deal with because if he fell or threw up, he knew he would pass out. Pain coursed through his body as he tried to hold his breath to make it stop. It was pathetic of him to think it would help. All it did was make his vision black out before he let himself breath again, taking in greedy gulps of air.

After what seemed like hours, his body went limp and his chest wasn't heaving anymore. He groggily got up and nearly fell as he stepped into the shower, the now cold water running down his flawed skin. Things weren't going to ever get better.

**Author's Note:**

> I keep on torturing my son, I'm soooorry. I didn't edit this.


End file.
